


so baby come over

by savorycheeks



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savorycheeks/pseuds/savorycheeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn's in over his head, but he learns quick. (This is just an excuse for porn)</p>
            </blockquote>





	so baby come over

“I don’t have one, just so you know,” Rey says, nudging Finn with her shoulder as they sit side by side in the mess-hall, half-eaten trays of food before them. Finn had felt, for once, that he didn’t need to fill the silence that had stretched between them, and is surprised when Rey, usually reticent unless prompted with the right subject, speaks up instead.

He eyes her warily for some hint. “Don’t have what?”

“A boyfriend,” she says, and her little pink tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip. “A cute boyfriend.”

Finn’s cheeks go warm. He’s never totally sure if he’s reading people right, but Rey is usually, comfortingly, someone who doesn’t speak in metaphors or social cues that may as well be Shyriiwook to his ears. “Yeah? No lucky guy waiting for you back on Jakku?”

“Not a one. Down there they all just want to use me for my portions.” She winks at him, which Finn thinks must be the result of her flight training with Poe. It’s devastatingly effective.

“Well, that’s no way to treat a lady.” Finn drops his fork and leans on the table in a gesture he hopes is as suave as he certainly doesn’t feel. “And besides, that’s a fool’s bet. You’d never give up your portions. I’d use you for protection. Another scavenger looks at me wrong, look out, Rey’s coming with her stick to bring down a galaxy of hurt!”

Little wrinkles gather at the bridge of Rey’s nose, her smile bunching up her face, and there’s that tongue again, which he’s trying not to fixate on, pressed between her teeth as she huffs out a breathy chuckle. 

The silence stretches again, tugging at the edges of their smiles as they look at each other, just staring, their lunches forgotten.

“So,” Finn begins, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking anywhere but into Rey’s frankly intimidating face.

“Yeah?” She leans in, her fingers grazing the place where Finn’s elbow rests on the table, and, okay, he is pretty sure he’s not reading this wrong.

“Do you want one? A boyfriend?” His smile is definitely at least 30% cringe, but he’s pushing past it, and she’s smiling, more of a smirk and raising her eyebrows and--

She tastes, well, like mess-hall food, but her mouth is warm, her lips an insistent pressure against his, and she smells like Rey-- like sweat and oil and dry dust, even though she hasn’t been in a desert for months now. Finn wonders if he just associates the smell of her with sand, and not the other way around, and oh, her tongue, again, darting out and tasting his. Finn’s hands reach up for-- something, he’s not sure what. They land in the vicinity of her ribs, and she startles, a small giggle passing between them at the contact. 

One of Rey’s hands curls around his neck, and he can feel her smiling against him, which makes him do the same, and the kiss finally breaks from it. Rey’s eyes are glittering when she opens them, and Finn pulls her closer, resting his forehead on hers.

“A cute one,” she says.  
\---

 

They’ve been dating now for a week, and Finn still gets a flutter in his chest when he thinks about it. He’s been finding excuses to mention his girlfriend, you know, Rey, in conversation with anyone he can corner long enough, and reception to the concept has been largely positive.

He wouldn't admit it, but part of him had expected people--the pilots or the officers or even BB-8-- to question him. To doubt that some First Order turncoat could land the ludicrously beautiful young jedi prodigy. Finn had given thought to how he would brush them off, how he would hold his head up and pretend like he deserved her.

But he never needed to. No one he told, organic or droid, seemed even terribly surprised that Rey had fallen for him.

Just as well, Finn thinks, he'd always been taught the rebels were lunatics anyway.

After a particularly, well, heated bout of kissing, broken only by a sudden communication from Jedi Master Luke Skywalker--this is what Finn looks like when he’s NOT freaking out, thanks-- it occurs to Finn that, while winging it had a pretty good success rate so far, he isn’t exactly sure what he’s supposed to do when the physical nature of the relationship escalates--which he definitely wants. More to the point, he’s reasonably sure Rey wants it too, and he really can’t forgive himself if he keeps failing to respond to the needy little moans she makes when he kisses her neck, or the way her fingers dig into his thighs or--any of it, really. 

So he finds himself hunched over his desk while she’s safely busy training on another side of the base. He searches the databases for human mating behaviors, techniques and helpful holovids. His room is empty and the door is locked, but he keeps looking over his shoulder anyway, expecting someone to be watching him in stunned, shameful, judge-y silence. 

After studying all he can, he considers his options, his fingers idling over the comm-pad in his room. Finally, he nods to himself and punches in a command.

“Hey, Poe. Are you available?”

A few seconds and the click of a response comes over the speakers.

“Yeah, Finn! What’s up, buddy?”

Finn squeezes his eyes shut and speaks quickly. “Do you have a few minutes? I need some advice.”

“Yeah, of course, what is it?”

“Can we talk in person?”

“Sure, yeah, I’ll be there in no time!” 

The comm clicks off and Finn is considering possible excuses for calling Poe that aren’t “I’ve never had sex please tell me how to pleasure my girlfriend.” but he finds, unsurprisingly, that it’s the only subject actually coming to mind.

Poe arrives as promised, and, despite a blush that must be observable from the next system over, Finn manages to explain his predicament. Poe, gentleman and scholar that he is, places his hands on Finn’s shoulder and nods gravely, clearly taking the responsibility very seriously.

“Look,” he says, “it sounds like you’ve done your research. Most people figure this stuff out with trial and error, and it’s fine.” 

Finn eyes him skeptically. 

“You want my advice?”

“Please, Poe.”

“Okay, here it is. One,” he counts off on his fingers, “don’t forget to use your hands. Two, don’t forget to use your mouth. Three, make sure she is enjoying herself--That you BOTH are. Honestly, if you keep that in mind, I suspect you guys will figure it out from there.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh! And don’t forget to swing by medical. The docs can set you up with a reversible implant. It’ll make sure you don’t get her pregnant, if that's a risk. She’ll probably get the same thing, but you can’t be too careful.”

Finn nods, making a mental note to make the appointment… after reading up on what such an appointment entails. 

Poe claps Finn on the back and laughs, affectionately, and the fact that he hadn’t until this point is something for which Finn is infinitely grateful. 

When he leaves, Poe’s easy smile waivers at the door, his eyes dropping to his boots as he says, “Good luck, buddy. Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

\---

 

Another week and one painless medical visit later, Finn finds himself lying back on his bed, Rey straddling his hips and trailing kisses over his collarbone as he traces his hand down the curve of her spine. 

Breathless and, Finn thinks, more than a little reluctant to pull herself away from his skin, Rey sits up, resting her weight on his thighs. “Do you mind if…” she tugs at the hem of her shirt, bites her lip, “...if I take this off?”

Finn’s eyes go wide and yes, _YES_ , his brain is shouting, and, “Yes! I mean, no. No, I don’t mind. By which I mean, please take off your shirt!” 

Not actually his smoothest moment, but Rey only looks pleased and pulls the shirt over her head, revealing the smooth planes of her stomach, the V of her hips guiding his eyes down. He reaches up, stops with his hands millimeters from her skin and looks up to meet her eyes. 

Rey nods and leans into him, her body like a hot, tense coil shifting under his fingers. While he slides over her waist, down and around her hips, she reaches up and tugs the plain sports bra over her head, leaving her naked, exposed and perfect from the waist up.

Overwhelmed suddenly by the urge to feel her skin on his, Finn drops his hands to his own t-shirt. “Can I…?”

“Oh, Force, please,” the desperation in her voice is absolutely too much for Finn to contemplate at the moment, so he shifts to tug his shirt off, chucking it towards an empty corner of the room. 

Once it’s off her hands are on him, gripping his sides and leaning in to place light, wet kisses across his chest. His breathing catches when her hips grind down into him, and Finn was hard before, but now he’s straining against his pants. His own hips buck to meet her and she moans, hot breath spreading on his skin. 

Rey leans back again, bracing herself on his hips, her thumbs pressing into his abdomen only just above the top of his pants. 

They’re moving together, chasing friction that’s caught in the folds of fabric, fleeting sensations that bring gasps and soft moans to their lips. 

His head is swimming, like he's drugged, dizzy from the sight and sensation of her. Finn has seen breasts before, really. He’s accustomed to communal showers, and he’s had years of first aid training that left him fairly knowledgeable about the human body, generally speaking. But none of that was Rey, above him with her rosy nipples peaking out from beneath the press of her arms, the slight bounce as they rut against each other. Rey’s breasts are something else entirely.

Finn’s never written a poem in his life, but he suddenly feels like he understands why people do. She’s so beautiful-- all the time, of course, but right now it’s so urgent, so important that he wants to _tell_ someone. His dick jumps, a slight wetness soaking into the fabric at the tip, and that too is a fair point: penning a sonnet for the ages is not on his immediate to-do list.

One hand on her hip, less guiding and more following her slow, deliberate motions, and his other hand glides up her arm and rests just below her shoulder, thumb rubbing little circles, experimentally, over her nipple. 

Her breathing stutters, and she’s leaning into his touch. Finn's tempted to just kiss her again, just because it’s familiar. He knows how it at least does SOMETHING with the directionless need that crackles under his skin, telling him to touch, to move. 

He wants to, but that need is turning to frustration, and _Rey's_ moans sound more and more needy. Her want is written on her face as plain as he’s ever seen it.

“What do you,” he begins, a jerk of his own hips stuttering his speech. “Tell me what you want me to do, Rey. I just want-- you’re so, you’re perfect, what--”

“Touch me,” she says, and Finn almost, almost stammers out a confused, “I am?” before Rey guides his hand to the space where their hips meet, to _her_ , and the angle is awkward, but he presses up with the top of his palm. His thumb curves up and he’s gripping, that whine escaping Rey’s throat again when he moves against her.

His hand provides her with a firm, more direct friction, and she _rides_ it. She’s riding his hand, hovering inches over his dick, and Finn doesn't realize he’s groaning until he hears it echo in his ears. He wants to take himself in his hand, but he knows that would distract him. He can't stand the thought of giving Rey anything less than whatever will keep her moving against him with increasing vigor, breathing soft not-quite-words into the air.

Instead of waiting for her neediness to return, Finn tugs at her waistband with his free hand. 

“Can we get this off?” he asks, rubbing at the hints of wetness beginning to seep into the thin fabric between her legs.

Rey bites her lip and nods, throwing one leg over and rolling off of him. She shimmies her pants off next to him, and it’s downright adorable until she looks back to him. Then it’s devastating. Finn takes in the sight of all her golden skin, lighter at her torso, bronze at her shoulders and calves. She shifts to her side, propped up on one elbow and trailing fingers over the rise and fall of his stomach. She stops short of his waistband.

A smirk on her lips, Rey leans in and whispers, “Your turn?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Finn manages, and he opens his fly with a merciful lack of fumbling. She hooks one finger into a belt loop and tugs down with him. Underwear and trousers are pulled down to his knees, where he works his legs out and kicks them off the edge of the bed. 

Rey fixates on his freed cock where it bobs against his belly, glistening at the tip. Her free hand fidgets.

“You can, I mean, I would like it if you touched me, Rey.”

She smiles, one of the beaming flashes of teeth that make Finn feel hypnotized, like maybe it’s a Jedi mind trick they never warned him about. 

She grips him, softly at first. Her fingers curl around him and move experimentally, pulling back foreskin and making Finn gasp at the cool air, the sensation. 

The smile stays, but her eyes narrow as she strokes with more confidence. It’s strange, almost, having someone else touching him. She doesn’t know exactly how he wants it, and the uncertainty is thrilling and just this side of not enough. A soft gasp escapes his throat and his hips move of their own volition, asking more from her tentative grip.

“Oh, Stars--Rey, you’re so…” he doesn’t have a word to finish that sentence, so he rolls to bury his face in her neck, kissing a trail up her chin to her mouth. She gasps and her grip falters. 

Finn realizes one of her legs is draped over his, straddling his thigh. Little movements of her pelvis in time with her strokes and, oh, she’s still wet, and now it’s _on_ him.

Finn moans and works a hand down her body, between her legs, slipping past the short, curly hair into the slick folds of her vulva. His fingers explore for a moment, tracing wide circles over the folds, stopping short of entering her. 

Rey’s breathing hitches into short bursts, and her hand on his cock is motionless, but Finn can’t bring himself to care. He works his fingers in earnest. Tight, quick little circles, and Rey looks helpless, moves her hips like she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. Finn leans in and licks at one of her peaked nipples, scattering kisses over the pale skin as he keeps pace between her legs. 

“Oh, Finn-- yes, I’m--” Her eyes screw shut, and perfect is what Finn thinks when she lets out a cry, a gasp. Her leg wraps around his again, pinning his hand in place between them, and he can feel the heat pour off her, her breath shuddering as she comes down. 

She looks up, heavy lidded and curling around him, their bodies touching from shoulders to toes. She tightens her grip on him again, stroking his erection so slowly that Finn can barely stand it. 

“Please… stars, yes.” he manages to croak out, to which Rey quickens her hand, and his eyes roll back from the relief of it. When he looks back down she’s stroking--and studying him, looking for all the world like his dick is profoundly fascinating, and Finn is… decidedly very okay with that. 

Tension starts growing in Finn’s belly, followed by a tightness in his balls, and he’s nearly delirious when Rey abruptly stops, narrows her eyes again.

“Wha--” He says, and Rey slides down the bed until she’s straddling him again, just above one knee, and, krif, the wet heat of her on his skin again is more than enough to distract him but--

She leans in, her fingers wrapped tight around the base of his dick and--

Delirious does not begun to cover how her mouth makes him feel. She wraps her lips around the head, her tongue moving over it, tasting, before sliding down. Finn shoves his fist between his teeth, because this is too good, and he is fighting the urge to thrust with every ounce of rapidly deteriorating rational thought, because he can’t imagine he would appreciate it if he were in her position, and he absolutely, positively, does not want to do anything that would encourage her to _stop_.

Rey bobs her head slightly, her tongue sliding playfully, incredibly along the side of his length. Finn bites down on his knuckles, stifling whatever sound he might make that could interrupt this.

After a few experimental strokes, moving her mouth and hand in tandem, meeting in the middle, she pulls off of him with an obscene ‘pop’. 

The tip of his dick hovers at her mouth, brushing her lips when she says, “Do you like it? I want to hear-- I want you to tell me if you like it.”

“Oh krif, Rey,” Finn sputters. “Yeah, yes, please, you feel amazing.”

Her tongue-- that damn tongue-- wets her lips, which have curled upwards again. “Good,” she says, and drops her mouth once more, grazing her teeth, making Finn hiss. 

“Rey, Rey, that hot mouth of yours-- your hands, please,” he stammers, and Rey responds with a quickened pace, with a stronger grip, and if talking is what she is into, then Finn can absolutely oblige her. 

So he keeps muttering pleases, yeses, and gasps between just chanting her name for lack of anything more eloquent. At each of his exclamations, Rey redoubles her efforts, wet sounds and spit smeared over her fingers, his cock, until Finn can’t speak, because he’s too close. 

“Ahhh-- mm,” he tries, and then forces actual words from his gasping throat, “--’m gonna,” and Finn reaches a hand down to grip his dick. Rey lifts her mouth off as his orgasm comes rushing out, spilling hot over his belly. 

Rey beams, her fingers still resting with his at the base of his softening dick, and she leans in, dragging one last pass of her tongue up the length, and Finn shudders. 

“That was fun,” she says, crawling back up the bed, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

Finn laughs, smiles wide enough it feels like his face will split. “Yeah?”

“You’re gorgeous,” she says from where she’s nuzzling his hairline. 

Finn snorts, “I think that’s my line.”

“I mean it,” she says. 

Finn kisses her forehead, her cheek. He reaches out, tilting her chin to press their mouths together, and he realizes she doesn’t taste entirely like herself. She tastes like him, and his dick isn’t ready for another round, but something in his gut still tightens and he groans, pressing their bodies together, deepening the kiss. 

As he leans to pull her tighter, Rey’s hand shoots out, blocking him by the shoulder. “You’ll make a mess!” she says with a laugh.

Finn follows her gaze to his stomach, where there remains a precarious trail of semen. “Hah, oh, right.” He leans back on his elbows, careful to keep the mess… contained. “Let me go get something to clean--”

Rey’s palm is placed firmly at his collarbone. “You sit tight. Let me.”

With that, she hops over him and off the bed, making a b-line for the ‘fresher, and Finn takes a moment to watch her move, purposeful, with the sure-footed grace of someone who has grown to trust their body.

When she returns it is with a small towel, which Finn expects her to hand off to him. Instead she leans over, wiping the come off his stomach like she’s cleaning a particularly delicate, particularly valuable engine part. 

It’s odd, and heart-wrenchingly endearing.

She drops the towel in a laundry bin and returns to the bed, sliding in next to him, wrapping a leg over his, and -- _krif_ \-- she’s still so hot, so slick between her thighs.

When Finn finally meets her gaze her eyes are sparkling, maybe a little hopeful, and he doesn’t realize he’s leaned in until their lips are touching, tongues grazing one another, and Rey whimpers, quiet and needy into his mouth.

His hand hovers over her pubic bone, fingers just brushing the curly hair, and Rey shivers. 

“Do you... want to keep going?” Finn asks.

Before actually answering, Rey lifts her hips towards Finn’s tentative hand, but her eyebrows come together and she looks down.

“I-- can you?”

A laugh escapes his chest in a huff of air, deflating much of the anxiety he’d been storing there. “Oh--yeah, no, but,” Finn lets his hand slide, no longer tentative, between her legs, “I definitely think _you_ can.” He hazards a smirk at that, wriggles his fingers to punctuate his point.

Rey narrows her eyes. Her fingers dig into his scalp as she kisses him, deep and needy until she pulls back and nods, biting her lip.

As the kiss breaks, Finn’s beaming at her, and knows it’s probably too much, he’s too eager, but if anything Rey looks like she just wants him more, and that gives him the boost he needs to pull his hands back. Gripping her hips, Finn trails kisses down her throat, her collarbone, her chest. 

Rey makes a small frustrated sound. Finn chuckles against her skin.

He takes a moment to cup one soft breast, then the other, his mouth following after his hands, traveling lazily downwards. Rey’s body moves into every point of contact, chasing after his touch, sparking renewed interest in his groin, in his still-recovering cock.

Halfway down the bed, Finn lifts one of Rey’s knees and plants himself between her legs, still kissing-- the rise and fall of her stomach, the tension in her thighs. 

Rey’s hips don’t buck, exactly, sort of shimmy with impatience, and it’s another thing that would definitely be filed away as adorable if it didn’t also send a pulse between his legs, fogging his mind with lust.

“Finn, _stars_ … come _on_ ,” she whines, barely more than breath. When Finn looks up she looks as lost-- as desperate-- as he’s felt up to this point, which is comforting. It makes him feel like he might be doing something right.

With renewed confidence, Finn lowers his head until his nose nuzzles in the coarse brown hair of her mound, feeling drunk from it, from her.

“Like this?” he says, warm breath against her flesh and a smile he knows she can hear.

“Mmm! Yes, Finn--” her hands tug at his short hair, urgent but not forceful, and Finn takes that as his cue to lean in, to taste her with a broad swipe of his tongue. 

She practically squeaks in response, tightening her grip on him. She’s wet, salty, somehow thick on his tongue, and he experiments with alternating pressures and rhythms, finds her jumping to meet him when he brushes over a nub of flesh that triggers, for a moment, the memory of the anatomy charts he’d studied (--the clitoral glans, located near the front junction of the labia minora, his mind provides uselessly). 

She says his name again, and the image goes right out of his head, replaced by the hot, messy, intoxicating realness of her.

Finn shifts on the bed, the friction of the sheets against his cock feeling better-- and more frustrating-- by the minute. He lifts her thigh, resting it on his shoulders for a better angle when he dips his tongue in and Rey _gasps_.

So he keeps going, dipping in, pulling out to tease circles around her clit, her wetness smearing his face. The flavor of her arousal coats his palate, and he opens wider, dives deeper like a starving man.

At some point Rey’s hand leaves his scalp, and he glances up to see it fisted in the sheets near her head, her face caught between pleasure and anguish. Her other hand cups her breast, a pert nipple pressed between two fingers as she pants for him to continue. 

Krif-- if that isn’t the hottest thing Finn’s seen in his entire life. He shifts again and he’s got a finger trailing through the slickness under his tongue, coating it before slipping it inside her. She’s tight and hot and _moving_ around him, so he curls the finger, earning another gasp. 

With a little trial and error he works out a sort of syncopated rhythm between his tongue and his hand, eventually working with his index and middle finger, curling up into her, petting at the walls squeezing him tight. 

“Oh, _Finn_!” Rey cries, and he can’t help but look up again. “You-- I want you inside me. Can you, ah, yet?”

Finn had absolutely not planned for this. His intention was to make every valiant effort to give her another orgasm even half as incredible as she’d given him, but here she was, asking for--wait.  
“You want me--or us!--to,” Finn licks his bottom lip in consideration, which is of course distractingly covered in as much of her slick as the rest of his face. “Intercourse?”

“Force, yes. Finn--” Regaining her composure with impressive rapidity, Rey props herself up on her elbows and attempts to shake a sweat-slick curl of hair from her face. “If you want to, and if you, ah, _can_ , I would really, really like that gorgeous dick of yours inside me. Please.”

Finn may not have planned for this, but his cock is about ten steps ahead of him apparently, because it’s straining against the sheets now, leaking from the tip and generally making its presence known.

“Yeah?” The over-eager smile is back, but it’s also so far down on the list of things Finn cares about right now that it may as well be current weather conditions on Jakku. “Yeah,” he says, tilting his head down to look up at her, “I can do that.”

Giving her a last playful-verging-on-teasing swipe of his tongue, Finn extricates himself from between her thighs, crawling over her, planting kisses on every inch of her perfect, freckled, intermittently scarred skin. She giggles at the light touches and drags him the rest of the way up by the sides of his face.

She kisses him, messy, hungry, like she wants to taste herself, too, and Finn can’t blame her.

Her legs spread wide, and Finn grinds down mostly on instinct. The underside of his dick presses firm against her, and he feels like he’ll come apart from how much--how fervently--he wants.

They kiss and move against each other like this for a minute before Rey starts making impatient noises, so Finn leans back and grips the base of his dick. He looks to her, the question in his eyes, searching for some kind of go-ahead, all-clear. 

Rey answers with a nod and a lift of her hips, lining the two of them up just so. Finn grazes over her folds with his dick, smearing his pre-come and her considerable slickness over the tip.

Finally, _finally_ , the head of his cock slides in, easy as anything and twice as overwhelming. Rey’s breathing hitches and her hands fly out to grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down and curling around his neck.

“Yes,” she breathes into his ear, and Finn sinks deeper, held tight around his neck and his cock. He’s never felt so grounded, so perfectly held in his own skin, but at the same time his head is swimming, like zero-grav training.

Finn’s pubic bone meets hers, completely engulfed, and Rey is planting frantic kisses over his face. She pulls back and says, looking half-mad herself, “Move.”

Finn does. He pulls out slow, slides in again, and-- _stars_ \--the look on Rey’s face is enough to make him freeze, but luckily Finn’s dick is--once more and somewhat distressingly--the voice of reason, and thrusts of its own accord, driving matching gasps from both of them. 

Before long, Rey is meeting each pump of his hips with one of her own, and they’re consumed in a blur of moans, of grasping hands, of endearments and oh-krif-yes-es. 

The pressure building in his groin, the tension in his gut, tells Finn he’s not going to last much longer, and his fingers find her clit. Tight little circles, growing more erratic with his thrusts, but Rey is breathing harder, screwing her eyes shut. 

Her body tenses, and Finn thrusts hard, fast, works his fingers, clumsy but dedicated, until they’re numb--then keeps working them. 

Rey shouts, every muscle going rigid before she collapses like a star, beautiful, blinding, and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Oh--oh, _Rey_ ,” gasps Finn between the presses of her lips. “You’re _amazing_.”

Half-lidded eyes and a wicked smile spread over Rey’s face. “That’s my line, gorgeous.” She grinds her hips against him, keeping Finn so, so deep.

He manages a few half-thrusts before he’s coming, pressing his forehead into Rey’s chest and murmuring her name mindlessly.

She pets him through it, wrapping her legs around him, holding him tight as he comes down. 

They lie motionless, for a second, a minute, or more, just breathing on each other, dazed and sated. Drowsily, Finn lifts his eyes to gaze up at her, and he finds that she’s smiling down at him, her fingers caressing his head, drawing lazy shapes in his hair. The lightness of her touch--or is it the softness in her eyes?-- sends a shiver down his spine, diffusing and distorting at the scar tissue.

“I’m really--” Finn interrupts himself with a cough--when had his voice gotten so rough?--which rumbles both of them, eliciting a chuckle from Rey. “I’m really glad we did this. Like, honestly. Wow.”

" _You're_ glad? Finn, I always thought ‘seeing stars’ was just some kind of cheesy saying, but, I mean. Pretty sure I was seeing galaxies.”

“I know, right? I mean, same here, you’re just--” Finn leans up to better look at her, which shifts the softening flesh of his dick inside her in a way that absolutely would be unpleasant if he wasn’t completely endorphin-high, drunk on the warmth of her skin under his. Still, he might wince. 

He pulls out, and it’s a little messy, but he doesn’t feel like moving, and she doesn’t seem to have any plans in that direction either. He falls to one side, draping an arm across her body, and now it’s his turn to trace shapes over her skin. 

“I mean, you’re definitely the best girlfriend _I've_ had.” 

Rey raises an eyebrow at him, “Oh, the best, huh? Are there some Stormtroopers I need to have words with? Stake my claim?”

“Well, there was that one time that TS-3320 let me use her training rifle when mine ran out of juice, so yeah, I’m kind of a heart-breaker.” Finn flutters his eyelashes at her. He’s rewarded with her crinkled nose and the arch of her neck as she barks out a laugh. 

“And don’t even get me started on the time WN-7657 and I traded protein rations, even though I had to sneak it to him right under Phasma’s nose. Talk about a forbidden romance.”

Rey rolls her eyes at him fondly. “Yeah well,” she says, looking at the ceiling and projecting the very essence of innocence, “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I mean, you’re in the top five, like, easy…” 

She smirks at him.

“Hey, top five, not bad!”

Rey shifts, folding her body against his and trailing fingers over his skin. "Honestly, though," she breathes, "I can see now why Master Skywalker said the old Jedi Order frowned upon relationships. If I actually _did_ have someone like you on Jakku I probably would have starved."

Finn's eyebrows shoot up despite himself. "Starved?"

"I mean, would you want to go out into the sand and scavenge for parts if you could just lay in bed with you all day? I don't think so." She kisses his jaw, his neck, and nuzzles against his shoulder again. 

His grin gives him away, but he still tries to sound smug when he replies, "fair point."

Hoping the tinge of embarrassment doesn't t show on his face, Finn sighs, "I was just--honestly, Rey, I was nervous."

Her own face inscrutible, Rey tilts her head. "Really?"

"So, so nervous. I did research. I asked for _advice_." Finn scrubs a hand over his face, trying to forget how awkward that had felt.

"Advice..." replies Rey, ominously. "Er, who did...?"

"I asked Poe. Force, I felt ridiculous, but he was great about it, of course. Didn't actually say _too_ much but he was unfazed and helpful. Like, amazingly unfazed."

Suddenly aware that Rey's holding back a laugh, Finn looks around for what he might have missed. "Uhh..?"

"Well, unfazed is probably right, since I had already bugged him for sex tips during my X-Wing training."

He stares dumbstruck at her for a moment, caught between mortified and hysterical.

"What? Who else was I supposed to ask? Chewie? Master Luke? The _General_?"

Finn snorts. "Wow. So. We both?"

Rey nods, her cheeks growing redder by the second until they both break, laughing uncontrollably, rattling the bed with it. 

"I guess we're lucky he gives good advice then," says Rey, catching her breath.

"So good, yeah."


End file.
